West 27, Line 50

July 23, 2007 Andy Boyle, Erie Times-News in Erie, Penn.

I went to Washington, D.C., this weekend with my pal Justin. He's another intern here at the Erie Times-News, and he's working out there this upcoming semester and he had a few friends to see.

And my former editor-in-chief, Jenna Johnson, is working at the Washington Post. So we came up with a plan of attack and headed out there early Friday afternoon.

Justin's been there three times before, and zero for me. Dodging traffic, trying to understand why there were so many "circles" and navigating the metro was fun. I also got to eat at a Chipotle, which I have missed since I moved out to Erie.

On Saturday we decided to hit all of the touristy things, which included the WWII Memorial, Washington Monument and Lincoln Memorial. I thought it was quite interesting that everyone stood in front of honest Abe and took photos of him, but not many cared about his two speeches that were on the marble walls to his left and right.

Apparently his sitting in a chair meant more to the visitors.

Also, the Mall had a lot of...well, I wouldn't call them protestors, but they obviously had a message and wore t-shirts to show it. It was a religious group persecuted in China, and they had a lot of pamphlets to hang out. A lot of them were sitting around the reflecting pool in front of Abe's memorial, meditating. It wasn't something I see everyday.

Then the dreaded part of the day came. I had to look up Thomas Mandfeld for my pops. He was a man who died in September of 1969 in Vietnam, right in front of my dad. It was the only name he could remember, and the only one he wanted me to look up at the Vietnam Memorial.

We found the books which list the names of the dead, and found him. West 27, Line 50. I looked at the line, and Justin and I became quiet when we trudged over.

It starts with just one name, then another, another. And in front of it are people, some grown men crying and rubbing parts of the wall. Some children asking, "Did Grandpa know him?"

"Why is this here, daddy?"

"Why are there so many names?"

Then I found West 27. It was a tall wall, and I couldn't just scan and find his name. So I went to the top and started counting down.

50. My finger landed on his name. My friend captured a picture of me at this moment, and it's hard to look at. It's by far the saddest picture of myself I've ever seen, and I don't know why I looked the way I did.

I wasn't there and I never knew the guy. But my dad did, and even though he nonchalantly mentions his buddy's name almost 40 years later, I know it must mean something to have gone to pay my respects.

	Andy Boyle will be a senior broadcasting and news-editorial major at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln this fall. He is working at the Erie Times-News in Erie, Penn., this summer, and during the fall he will work as the Daily Nebraskan's web editor and multimedia content manager. Email Me , View All Andy's Entries